


Whistling Away the Dark

by lavenderseaslug



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 21:30:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderseaslug/pseuds/lavenderseaslug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's based off of a deleted scene from "Tigh Me Up, Tigh Me Down" where Billy and Laura discuss the possibility of Laura and Bill reaching various bases, and can be read <a href="http://www.twiztv.com/scripts/battlestar/season1/galactica-109.pdf">here</a>. Takes place during the Miniseries, "Water", "Flesh and Bone", and "Tigh Me Up, Tigh Me Down"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whistling Away the Dark

“If this civilization is going to function, it’s going to need a _government_. A civilian government run by the President of the Twelve Colonies.” Her voice is sharp, there is no room for softness now. She’s surprised at how well she’s adapted to this role, how she has made herself fit into what she thinks a president should be.

“You’re in charge of the fleet. But military decisions stay with me.” He’s been doing this for so much longer than she has; he’s resistant to change, resistant to this new and unqualified person standing in his quarters, telling him what to do.

“Agreed.” She can at least give him that. Even as she’s becoming president, she doesn’t think she can take on the military too, and she’d far prefer it if the Commander stayed in control on matters she had no business weighing in on.

He’s watching her and she shifts a little, uncomfortably. “Then I think we have a deal…Madame President.” Their hands go out together, a mutual agreement. They don’t linger over the contact, his hand dropping first.

The use of her new title from his mouth catches her off guard. A small giggle escapes from her lips and she stifles it as quickly as possible, though it earns her a searching look from the stoic commander, as if he’s wondering if his ally has just gone insane.

“Madame President. It just seems so…so ridiculous. Especially since just a few hours ago, I was nothing but a schoolteacher to you. It’s…” She flounders for the right word as she sits on his couch. Before today she was just Laura Roslin, Secretary of Education. She wonders if there’s anyone left who will still call her Laura.

“Absurd,” he finishes, joining her on the sofa, offering her a glass of water. She takes it, using the drink to stop up her laughter. “But absurd or not, it’s where we are. Makes you think.”

She sobers at that. “Yes, yes it does, Commander.” But she can’t hold it in for long and another giggle finds its way out into the air. She can almost convince herself she’s dreaming: an apocalypse, becoming president through a farcical display of the chain of command, vowing to find the mythological Earth, it’s all so unbelievable, so very absurd.

“Commander. That’s what I’ll be for the rest of my life.” He leans back, looking at the ceiling of his quarters. “It’s not that I had particular delusions of achieving a higher rank than that, but it seems probable that we might not live to see another commander take my place.” His hands are folded over his stomach and Laura watches them move up and down with his breathing, noting his wedding ring, remembering his son, calculating his loss.

“We’re all what we’re going to be for the rest of our lives,” she answers and tries not to laugh again. The stoic commander next to her doesn’t seem to be in the mood to indulge her momentary hiatus from seriousness, a moment of humanity in the midst of her presidency.

“The rest of our lives.” He mulls that over as he swills the water in the glass, looking sullenly at the clear liquid. “I’ll probably never kiss another woman,” he says finally, with a bit of a smile.

It is that smile that makes Laura impulsively lean over and gently touch her lips to his. “Well, now you don’t have to worry about that, sir.” She stands, brushing invisible wrinkles from her shirt, hiding her embarrassment from the man in front of her. “If you’ll excuse me, I should be heading back to Colonial One.” Already she’s thinking of the ship as a home, which is probably for the best, as from now on, it will be.

\---

Her fingers lightly caress the title. _Dark Day_ , embossed in gold. “Thank you. It may be a while before I get this back to you.” She didn’t think she’d ever get to read a new book. She thought that the trashy magazine she’d bought for the flight to Galactica would be the last new thing she’d ever get to read – she’d even been savoring the now meaningless celebrity scandals, only letting herself read one a day. _A Murder on Picon_ had been relegated to the bottom of her suitcase, a mystery she’d read one too many times to hold any more interest for her.

“It’s a gift. Never lend books.” If he realizes how much this means to her, he’s not letting on. In fact he barely seems interested in this exchange. His mind appears to be on other things – and why wouldn’t it be, what with the water shortage.

“Well then. Thank you, for the gift.” She holds the book close, smells the pages as he leaves. It’s all she can do not to settle in on his couch and immerse herself in the words of Edward Prima.

He returns, in time, smelling very much like the engine room. She has made herself comfortable at his table, sorting through papers, glasses perched on her nose. Without ceremony, he turns to the head and reaches for the tap before remembering that it’s a water shortage he’s dealing with. When he turns around, Laura is squarely behind him, his hands now in an unmistakably risky position.

She looks down at where his palm is resting, ignoring the fact that it is a part of her anatomy filled with disease and tries to remember the last time a man had his hand there. She looks back up at him and smiles, opens her mouth to make a joke, to laugh it off.

He doesn’t move his hand, and her mouth closes. Then opens again. “Commander, I’m not sure this is entirely app-” She stops when he removes his hand and meets her gaze. His dark face reddens ever so slightly and he looks away.

“Sorry,” he mutters, easing around her to move into the main room once more. Laura looks down at where his hand rested moments ago.

“Nothing to be sorry for, Commander,” she says, walking past him and returning to her seat at the table, sitting stiffly. “We all put our hands where they don’t belong from time to time.” This earns a chuckle from him and she rests a little easier in her chair, although she can’t entirely shake the wish that he hadn’t moved his hand

\---

“Hell of a risk you took today.” Bill is watching her, studying her. She shifts in her seat, aware of his gaze, uncomfortable with it.

“Something I had to do,” is all she can think of to say, immersed as she is in her own thoughts. She’s not even sure what she would do if it turned out that her only ally, her only true confidant was a Cylon.

“Care to tell me why?” She would once have accepted that as a simple question, but now all she can see are the motives behind it. Suspicion has entered her system and she cannot get rid of it.

“President Adar once said that the interesting thing about being a president is that you don't have to explain yourself to anyone.” She smiles as she delivers this line and he must know that she will not offer any explanation.

Silence reigns for a moment and she looks away from him again. If only one’s humanity could be identified simply by looking at them. If only one’s humanity was as evident as the color of their eyes.

“Something wrong?” he asks, concern in his voice. There was a time when she would have called him her friend, would have appreciated the worry.

“No... nothing at all.” She leans back in her chair, a small uncomfortable smile on her face, anything to reassure the man across from her that she’s not suspicious of his every move. Her thoughts flit to the day when he inadvertently groped her in his quarters.

How long it’s been since a man has touched her, how long it will be until a man touches her again. A small sigh escapes from her, earning a glance from Bill. She smiles her tight smile once more and looks down at his hands, anywhere away from his face. She imagines his hands dancing up her legs, moving past her underwear, finding the spot that makes her hum. She imagines loosening his belt, untucking his tanks, discovering what the uniform has to hide. She wonders what would have happened if she’d let his hand stay on her chest.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks again, ducking his head slightly, trying to earn back her eyes. She meets his, a little unsteadily, not quite able to shake her fantasies from her head, even if it turns out he’s commander to the Cylons.

She wants to tell him what Leoben told her. She wants to tell him that she wants him. But she’s the president, so she simply shakes her head, empties her water glass and makes her excuses. “It’s late, Commander. I should be going.”

\---

Laura enjoys the emptiness of her office, enjoys the silence away from the pestering reporters and sycophantic social-climbers, trying to get a foothold in the government. She starts slightly as Billy enters, his tie loose, his jacket slung over his shoulder casually. He seems surprised to find her alone. She smiles, welcoming him into her temporary sanctuary. “Have a good time?”

Billy waves his hand slightly. “So-so.”

“Get to second base?” Her smile is wider now, she enjoys ribbing this poor young boy who has a hard time seeing her as anything but a maternal president with no knowledge of anything beyond the world of politics.

He holds up one finger and Laura laughs outright. “Well, war is hell. Better luck next time. What’d you find out?”

As Billy relates the details of his conversation with Dualla, Laura’s thoughts go to other places. As sure as she is of her suspicion, she can’t help but doubt her conclusions, her belief in the Leoben copy. Given enough time, she could convince herself that Adama was a Cylon, but given enough time, she could also convince herself that grass was blue – it’d been so long since she’d seen any, how could she know any different?

“What if they were able to replace him?” Laura asks, breaking into the conversation.

“Can they do that?” Billy looks surprised, doubtful, fearful.

“I don’t know. Can they do that? You tell me. What can they do? What are they capable of?” She knows that he doesn’t know – she’s voicing these thoughts as much for her own benefit as for his. “Every time I talk to him, every time I sit in a room with him, every time I hear his name, a little voice in the back of my head whispers, ‘What if it’s true?’”

“Well, he’s taking the test. We’ll find out soon enough.” She smiles at him again. She can almost see a son in him, eager to please, always trying to be a comfort to her.

“Right. Okay. See you in the morning.” She looks down at her desk, at the report that sits unfinished. She wishes she could let it all go, just for the night. To go to bed early is a luxury she has not experienced in weeks.

Billy turns to leave and she can see a small smile on his face. “What?”

“Nothing.” His innocence is not believable, and she’s sure he knows it as he makes no concerted effort to hide his smile.

“No, what are you grinning at?” She wants to know now, curiosity eating at her. She hates not knowing things, hates being out of the loop, even if the loop is simply her aide and whatever thoughts he is currently entertaining.

“No, really. It’s inappropriate.” She can’t believe those are the words he chose to deter her from wanting to know.

“Okay, now you have to say it.” She’s very close to ordering him to tell her, using her authority as President of the Twelve Colonies to extract the information from Billy Keikaya.

“I was just…wondering. You know, if you and the Commander…” He trails off, but holds up one finger, a smirk now plastered all over his face. A blush flows over her face and she wonders if Billy’s noticed how she has trouble looking the Commander in the eyes, how any close proximity makes her shudder ever so slightly. First base. Does he think she’s some horny teenager who can’t keep her pants on? It’s all she can do not to snort.

“Go sober up.” It’s the best defense she has against the truth that he is dangerously close to uncovering. It’s too just bad Billy hasn’t had anything to drink tonight.

Billy holds up two fingers, a look of fake shock taking over his features and Laura can barely keep the grin off her own. Second base was something she didn’t think she’d get to any time soon, Bill’s accidental groping excluded.

“No…” He’s pushing it because he knows he can, because he knows that she’s thought about it, that she can’t really deny it and remain truthful.

“Good night.” She tries to be forceful, tries and fails because Billy simply holds up three fingers and says in mock horror, “Oh my gods…” trailing off as though the thought were too outrageous to entertain.

“Out!” she barks, trying desperately to maintain a semblance of dignity. As soon as he’s out the door, she laughs to herself. “We’re all losing our minds.”

\---

She can’t quite describe the feeling of relief that falls over her when the light turns green on Bill’s test. They walk back to his quarters together and she finds herself looking over at him every few seconds. She can tell he notices, can see the smile at the edge of his eyes.

He opens the hatch door and follows her in, his hand ghosting at the small of her back. She feels a faint flush at the almost contact, the intimacy it implies. As soon as the door closes, she turns to face him.

“Commander,” she begins, although she’s unsure of how to follow it. She can’t really say anything, not with the sensitive positions they hold. He smiles at her, a full-on smile, with no attempt to hide it.

“Madame President,” he returns equitably as they both move further into his quarters.

There have been moments, moments between the two of them where she is no longer the president and he is no longer the Commander and they simply sit side by side on his couch and talk like two normal people. Exchange of information; what her home looked like, how he liked to garden on his shore leave. It helps remind them that they are human.

She tells herself that it is human to want the Commander to take her to his bed, to undress her little by little. And with that thought, she leans forward, as she did on the day when the world ended, and kisses him gently.

“Madame President?” he repeats, his eyebrows reaching towards his hairline. She offers only a smile and leans in once more. This time he meets her half way, his hand finally coming to rest at the small of her back, finally declaring its home there.

She pulls away for a moment, rests her forehead against his. “I think,” she murmurs, “that you could call me Laura.” Her own name on her lips sounds foreign to her, but when he says it, she feels as though he’s been calling her by it all her life.

“Bill,” she says, her voice finally speaking his name out loud. “Bill,” she says again, enjoying the syllable as it rolls from her tongue. “Bill.” A third time and he kisses her fully; she can tell he enjoys the sound of his name as much as she enjoys hers. They haven’t been these people in so long.

It isn’t long before her jacket is gone, before his uniform is unbuttoned. She knows she will regret this in the morning, but it wouldn’t be the first time and it might very well be the last time. She enjoys the feeling of his skin as she reveals it inch by inch, lifting his tanks.

“Laura,” he whispers against her shoulder, against her collarbone, against her stomach. She hums as he whispers it again, lower and lower. His hand rests on her breast and this time they don’t feel uncomfortable about it. Her hand finds purchase in his hair, the other above her head, clenched tightly.

She doesn’t cry out as he enters her, he doesn’t grunt with every thrust. They are quiet and fast and sloppy but they are human. As their breathing slows, a smile crosses Laura’s face. “We can’t tell Billy about this,” she says softly.

“Wasn’t something I was thinking about,” he answers and she rolls away from him with a laugh, bending down to pick up her shirt and pull it over her slightly sticky skin.

“I should go back to Colonial One,” she says instead of apologizing for leaving so suddenly. Colonial One is her refuge away from bad decisions, it’s where she regains the exterior of President Roslin and hides away Laura.

“No rest for the weary,” he answers, asking for no explanation from her and earning another chuckle as she dresses, reluctantly. She wishes she could be this person, this Laura, for longer. She wishes that for once, just once, she didn’t have to be president.

“Thank you, Bill.” Her gratitude is hard to express, so she bends and once more presses her lips to his, sure this will be the last time. She leaves, only the faint smell of her the only sign she’d ever entered his quarters.

Once back on Colonial One, she lays in bed, her mind repeating the same scene over and over again, a smile haunting her mouth. She’s never been so relieved to be human.


End file.
